


Groundhog Day

by orphan_account



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Blood, Death, Gen, Sans - Freeform, The Party Incident and Other Embarrassing Anecdotes, Violence, bones - Freeform, squish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-14
Updated: 2016-06-14
Packaged: 2018-07-15 02:35:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7202804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fanfic loosely based on the events of chapter 34 of the fanfic "The party incident and other embarrassing anecdotes"</p><p>---</p><p>Sans didn't even question why she was down there with him. In retrospect, maybe if he did, he could have avoided what happened.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Groundhog Day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [poubelle_squelette](https://archiveofourown.org/users/poubelle_squelette/gifts).
  * Inspired by [The Party Incident and Other Embarrassing Anecdotes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5798113) by [poubelle_squelette](https://archiveofourown.org/users/poubelle_squelette/pseuds/poubelle_squelette). 



> Ok, this is my warning that this fanfic is not for those who are weak to violence and graphic depictions of violence. If you are having a bad day or simply cannot stand that kind of content, the time to leave is now.
> 
> \-------
> 
> Heyo you should ttly go check out Poubelle-Squelette's fanfic, The Party Incident and Other Embarrassing Anecdotes.
> 
> It's way happier than what i wrote, and it's sure to brigthen your day.

End of the cycle. He was dead, and then, just like that, he wasn't, all over again. Beginning of the cycle. He was in perfect health, his single HP point was save and sound for now.

According to his notes, it was run 84 now. The human wouldn't come out from the Ruins until the next day. Papyrus made breakfast: spaghetti. Sans pretended to eat it, making a show of having one forkful of the barely edible noodles before scraping up the rest to Annoying Dog's plate behind his brother's back. He scratched behind it's ear while it chomped down the pasta

When he left the house, Sans had nothing to distract himself with until tomorrow.

He went to his post. No one was around at that time of the day and the cold breeze helped keep him stuck in the moment. He drank a ketchup bottle he had stocked away there for the hotdogs.

Even the snow fell at the same places here. Right in front of his station, it was forming that same old lump that none stepped on.

Later, he walked to the door to the Ruins. The kid could be on the other side, getting themselves "busy" for all he knew, or they would be playing nice. He couldn't bring himself to care.

The day came and went. He laid on his bed, but didn't sleep.

He followed his lines. Ate some of Papyrus' cooking. Fed the dog. Walked to the Ruins.

Any time now.

He heard the stone door opening before he saw it. Toriel had never come to the door to talk to him this run.

From his spot in the middle of the woods, he saw the human, and his smile faltered. He knew them, of course, like he knew every time, except, instead of it being a child, it was someone else.

He recognized her, but not from anywhere in the underground. She walked down the path, and a spark of emotion filled his soul.

Breaking the tree branch after she walked past it had regained it's charm. He didn't even question why she was down there with them. All that mattered was that he trusted _______ to be his friend, even if they technically didn't know each other yet. She wouldn't hurt anyone, and having that security made him unclench his teeth and almost smile like he meant it.

"human.", he was right behind her, excited to see how differently she would react to his old jokes. "dont you know how to greet a new pal? turn around and shake my hand."

She did and the whoopee cushion was squished between their joined hands. He began to make plans: he'd not let Grillby give her the passionette this time, save them both of all those embarrassments that seemed to bother her so much. This time he'd not let her cry, they would be good friends, and he would be there for her, to the end until she met Asgore, and even after if she wanted him to.

She stared at him in disbelief through his awful joke, letting go of his hand.

He was so excited over having her with him, a major plot shift in his scripted life, that he didn't noticed how tense she was.

\---- 

There was something wrong.

Something was bothering her, and only after Papyrus had come and gone, he understood what it was.

There was dust on her shoes.

It must be just dirt, he told himself.

He stopped following her, his legs suddenly too weak for the task. _________ continued through the path.

\---- 

Later, Snowdin was a ghost town.

He found Papyrus' ashes and he started laughing, jaw tensed, teeth ready to bite as fangs and voice deep as a roar.

\---- 

He watched every second of it. As the day went by, ________ was less his friend and more just another human. Someone he didn't know. Who knows, maybe he'd never known her.

She lifted the torn notebook high and struck Woshoa down hard. One hit. A thin layer of dust speckled the hard cover of the notebook.

Yeah, this run was very different from all the others.

As a full grown adult, ________ was stronger and harder for the monsters to hit. It made it faster to defeat Undyne.

The captain of the royal guard hadn't even been fast enough to take the blow for Monster Kid. The young monster's shriek had never beed heard this early in any timeline.

He faintly could hear his own bones rattling. The vision of her smile, maniac and humorless, was burned into his brain.

\---- 

The underground was a lot more vacant now. He didn't stay to watch her kill Mettaton. He could tell well enough she was done when Alphys started leading the survivors to her hiding place. Walking down the judgement hall, he wasn't sure if she would even need to kill him when she got to him. Maybe he would just fall down by himself before they ever came down to it.

If there was a God out there, he hope she would let him stay dead if he did fall down.

\----

He didn't fall down before she got to him, after all.

It was particularly hard to speak up and call her out for her crimes before attacking her. There was this renewed pain and wrath when he did, like an old wound someone had cut even deeper. It reminded him too much of the first time he fought Frisk, how angry he was then, and how much pain he was enduring while he went at the kid.

Feeling empty and walking like a dead man was preferable to this. His magic coiled at his palms and he had all the reasons to let it go wild. He wanted to let it go wild. Let it strike her purple soul and tear her apart like a rag doll.

Only he didn't. If anything, his hits hurt her less than they should.

She had that damned knife at hand and that disgusting smile on her face. On that so familiar face.

He used to love her laugh. So happy and genuine. Here and now, however, when she tried to hit him and he barely could dodge, she had laughed. Breathless and high pitched, blood chilling familiar, a mix of her own laughter and the one he had become accustomed to hear from Frisk, when they were the one with dust on their hands.

She was so much faster than Frisk, though. And had such a higher HP than them.

He was going to die by the hands of the only human he thought he could trust.

\---- 

He somehow managed to get her HP as low as one point away from death, and that was when things took a turn to the worse.

She let go of the knife.

Her smile died and she stopped moving. It was her turn.

"On your next turn,", she announced. "Kill me."

In the black and white fight environment, her hands pressed the mercy button.

His hands were shaking when it became his turn. For a second, he doubted he would. He didn't make the conscient choice to do it when he did. Attacking was a reflex by now. Her body fell to the floor, and the fight scene was broken.

Reload.

\---- 

Something was happening.

Time was breaking apart.

Every time he killed her, they went back to her last turn. The one when she spared him.

"On your next turn, kill me."

Hit.

Reload.

"On your next turn, kill me."

Hit.

Reload.

He realized something was wrong, and it was getting even worse each time.

By the second reload into her last turn, they weren't even in a fight scene anymore. He could see her in colors now, and it wasn't her soul he was hitting anymore.

Purple soul tucked inside her body, it was like her flesh was shielding the soul, making it so much harder to kill her.

By the 10th reload, he needed to hit her more than once for her to die and the reload start again.

By the 50th time, her body wasn't recovering with the reloads. Her broken and bruised body just kept shielding the soul.

With a sting of despair, he realized was was going on.

She wasn't determined.

She was _persevering._

"Kill me, Sans.", she began asking

Bones stabed her, coming out bloody on the other side. She coughed blood.

"Kill me, Sans.", she was a mess of dust, blood and tears.

The worse were the screams. He no longer had control of his body. Despite not having been hit a single time, Sans could feel a burning sensation on his ribcage, forming a line crossing from his shoulder to the lowest vertebra on the other side.

She screamed, teeth red with the blood she had been coughing. A few teeth were missing.

She wasnt even in one piece anymore. Her broken arm was now detached from her shoulder, torn and bleeding, fingers still twitching like she could still control it.

"KILL ME, SANS.", she howled, and he could no longer recognize her voice, so much more like an animal than a human.

"please, dont make me.", this was an entirely different kind of pain. His hand rose high with a club-like bone, and he hit her again. Reload. Restart. The bones he stabbed her with were still on her. "pl-please.", he wasn't in control anymore. Still with the club in hands, he smashed her legs.

He could faintly hear laughing that wasnt coming from her. He took a moment to realize that it was him who was laughing.

"Kill me, Sans." she whimpered, impossibly still alive.

He smashed her ribcage, his own bone attacks no longer distinguishable from her broken ones as they were exposed.

For the first time, he saw a human heart beating.

He laughed harder.

How ironic it was, that after having killed Frisk so many times, it was _her_ heart the first he'd ever seen.

Her eyes were unfocused, turned to the ceiling, and the reloads weren't stopping.

Flesh was something Sans lacked. A small chunk of it got stuck on his bone attack, and slid down until it touched his hand. There was no way she could still be alive, nearly beaten until she was similar to meat that came from a grinder. Like this, cut and smoothened, her flesh could no longer be identified as something alive.

At some point, he let go of the bone and it clanked on the floor before dissipating into magic. He kneeled beside her on her bloody puddle and began tearing apart the meat that was still protecting her soul.

The weird thing about touching cut flesh, Sans thought, desensitized to his actions, was how squishy it was. It slid between his fingers leaving behind a thicker trail of blood. Muscles are specially tougher, he noted, hardly tearable.

He somehow managed to reach her soul, which was hiding away in her corpse.

Voices echoed down the hall, resonating with the hum of her soul.

Even now, she still hummed happily.

This time, when he ripped her soul apart, something else happened.

Reload

\---- 

________ placed her hands above the black and white mercy button.

"On your next turn.", she smiled at him, body intact except for a few scratches. "Kill me, Sansy."

His laughter filled the judgement hall.

_Sans!_

_Sorry, Sans._

_Ow, fffu-_

Sans woke up in his room in the surface, in the dark of the night, pain striking him across the face.

There she was, on the edge of his bed, staring down at him with a worried expression. The first thing he noticed was how well she looked, not a single scratch or speckle of dust. His hands moved on his own to touch her, and she held his hands on hers.

"It's ok. You were just having a nightmare."


End file.
